Hat Trick
by MirandaMinerva
Summary: 3rd installation in fluff series - follow's Murphy's Law, Lucky Charm. Pure folly.


**Summary:** This started with what I thought was a stand-alone: "Murphy's Law". It continued with "Lucky Charm" and now "Hat Trick." This whole series is a slow-building romance, and 'fluff' at that (so it appears). This chapter takes place the Saturday after St. Patrick's Day (6 months post-film/book). Best to read the two prior pieces for this one to make sense.

**Disclaimers:** Minor alterations to real life sporting events to suit my needs – timing/winners of the Stanley Cup (hockey) and Six Nations (rugby). As always, the recipe is an original creation using borrowed ingredients. Gratitude extended to _associatedbears_ for reviewing and _sheknowsnofear_ for continued beta excellence. All mistakes in the final dish are my own (Face it, even with supervision, I can make a dog's dinner of things). _Bon appétit~_

_Hat Trick_

On Saturday afternoon, in the near empty _Mirror_ offices, Andy logged off her computer and stretched her arms over her head.

"Heya, Sachs. Those your skinny-ass arms? Whatcha still doing here?"

She rotated in her chair, "Just submitted my article."

"For Tuesday? Those aren't due for..." the young man with short curls of sandy blonde hair glanced at his large sports watch, "…almost another eight hours. Well sorted, Sachs." He gave her an approving smile from where he stood, several rows of desks away.

"Thanks, Chris." Andy grinned. "How's the Summit going?"

"Summit?"

"Yeah. I thought I heard you saying something earlier in the week about a Six or Eight Nation Summit?" Andy's face reflected serious contemplation. It didn't help when Chris started howling. She put her head in her hands.

"That bad?" Andy groaned.

He continued to chuckle as he approached her desk.

"Andy, it's called 'Six Nations' and it's a series of international rugby matches, not an Economic Summit. I am, if you recall, a sports writer. And no, I don't much wish to discuss the outcome. This year even the bloody Welsh beat us. Not at all good." He stuffed his fists into the pockets of his faded jeans and tapped the toe of his Adidas against the leg of her desk. A wide smile continued to light up his face.

"Sorry," Andy responded weakly. She had no clue whatsoever what rugby involved, but knew that Chris was from somewhere in Northern England and took a fair amount of razzing from the other sports reporters for his accent, which she – and the other females in the office – found rather charming.

"S'all right. We were watching the matches on the big screen in Bob's office. If you want to join us, we're switching over to the NHL playoffs."

_There's an attractive thought – a room full of grown men cursing at a 50-inch plasma screen as two teams in bulky protective gear beat each other and a puck around an ice rink._

"Um, I kind of was turning in my story early because I have…kind of an appointment to get to. I'm sorry." She used her most contrite voice, hoping to let him down easy.

"No worries. Check back with me Monday, though," he leaned in a little, smelling faintly of beer. "The boys think Washington is going to beat San Jose. I've got $50 in that says otherwise."

"Really?"

"The Capitals clinched the President's Trophy and these Septics, no offense, think it means certain victory. I'm going to make out quite nicely." He grinned widely as he turned to grab a six-pack of Guinness from the corner of his desktop.

"Who is it that the…Capitals…are playing?"

"San Jose."

"What's their mascot? For San Jose, I mean."

"Hopeless, Sachs. You're hopeless," his chuckle signaled the insincerity of his rebuff. "The Sharks."

"I'd go with the Sharks, then."

"Based on what? My say?" They both laughed at this.

She pulled out her wallet and handed over a crisp $20 bill, "The Sharks to win."

"You're serious then?"

"Of course. Sharks sound a lot more fierce than Capitals."

Chris shook his head, but took her money before heading for the nearby stairwell.

"You know what this means? I'll be having to split the winnings with you."

"Yeah, life sucks."

"Naff off, Sachs."

"See you on Monday," She gave her desk a quick scan, picked up her purse, and waved farewell over her shoulder.

* * *

At seven twenty, Andy was standing on the front porch of the Priestly townhouse, dry cleaning bag in hand. She took a deep breath and paused to consider the absurdity of her situation. Here she was, no longer Miranda's assistant, but holding the woman's dry cleaning just the same. And, although she'd been here just a few days before, on St. Patrick's Day, this time she was thankful to be well rested and quite sober. After a few moments of gathering her confidence, she took one last deep breath and knocked on the door.

When Miranda opened the door to allow the young woman in, the Editor couldn't keep her lips from quirking upwards at the corners, "You aren't wearing '_Eau de Distillery'_ and your attire, thankfully, is an improvement as well."

Andy blushed, rocked on her feet in the entryway.

"You may hang that in the closet, Andrea. I believe you'll find your…things…on the right. Don't forget to take them when you leave. If left behind, I will be sorely tempted to coat them in cement and have the result dropped into the East River."

"That sounds oddly like 'Tony Soprano'."

"Do I look like an overweight Italian male?" Miranda easily turned the tables on her guest.

"Oh, uh, of course not." Andy busied herself with putting away the freshly pressed outfit that Miranda had lent to her after the St. Patrick's Day fiasco.

When she turned back from the closet, she found the older woman studying her, eyes slightly narrowed. Andy felt a tingle running from her neck all the way down to her toes in response.

"Um, I brought rhubarb pie for dessert?" She lifted a large pink box by tightly knotted twine.

"Very well." Miranda reached out, taking the bound package. "Let the girls know that dinner is ready. They're upstairs in the media room." She paused to wave a hand in the direction of the stairs, "You shouldn't have any problem finding it. I believe you almost made it that far at least once before, if not twice."

Miranda had, of course, reminded her that she had not forgotten Andy's intrusion on her argument with Stephen almost a year ago. With a look of wicked glee, Miranda sauntered down the hallway towards the kitchen.

A glance up the stairs and another deep breath for courage later, Andy dropped her purse under an entryway table and made her ascent.

_They're not demons, _she reminded herself. _They were actually NICE the other day in the park. They're not demons._

By the time Andy made it to the first floor landing, she felt slightly less confident. She followed the sounds of a television, making her way through double-doors into a room at the front of the townhouse. Caroline and Cassidy were seated with their backs to her, watching, of all things, a hockey game.

"Heya, Caroline. Cassidy. Um, your mother says dinner is ready."

They turned towards each other, then further back, simultaneously piercing her with razor sharp blue-grey eyes.

"I was right. I told you she'd come."

"Whatever."

One girl rose, turned off the television and set the remote down on a small side table. The other set to the side the Apple iPad that had been warming her legs. Andy noted, as they circled the large sofa, that they carried themselves differently, one of the girls seemingly shyer than the other. She turned to stare after the pair as they moved past her towards the landing.

"We eat dinner downstairs, you know," one of the twins gave her a pointed glare before her head disappeared from view.

"Um, right," Andy replied to no one in particular. She followed their forms back down the spiraling, carpeted steps and around towards the kitchen at the back of the house, recalling, if only slightly, the route from earlier in the week. Just before they reached it, though, the girls turned left through a recessed doorway. Into a formal dining room.

"You sit there."

She followed the directive, sitting in a seat along the left side of the long table. Both redheads sat opposite the brunette, eyeing her warily.

"So, did you find any more four-leaf clovers, Caroline?" Andy smiled inwardly, hoping that by not looking at either of the girls directly as she asked the question, they would differentiate themselves for her.

"No," came the clipped response from the girl seated furthest from the head of the table.

"Oh. I thought maybe if we – I mean, you – had found the one, then there might be others nearby." Andy gave them both a hopeful look. It was a given that getting along with Miranda's daughters was imperative to surviving the meal.

"Really? I thought there was only one to a patch or something," Caroline reached out, picking up the spoon from her place setting and attempting to balance its bowl on her nose.

"Well," Andy drawled, placing an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand in thoughtful contemplation. "I suppose that as they are a rarity, it would be unlikely to find more than one in a small area. But, I'd also like to think that anything is possible." Andy gave Caroline a full, radiant smile.

"Caroline, stop playing with your silverware."

Andy quickly removed her elbow from the table and turned towards the doorway.

Miranda paused, wine bottle in one hand and sparkling cider in the other, momentarily struck by Andy's relaxed countenance. The room was still.

"Oh. Um." The young woman stood, reached out to take one of the bottles.

Miranda, recovered from her reverie, handed off the cider.

"For Caroline and Cassidy, right?"

"Brilliant deduction," came the retort.

Andy chuckled nervously and poured a small puddle into the glasses set before the twins.

"Please, taste. I think you will find that-," she glanced at the bottle, "this is a very good vintage. Truly in a class of its own."

Cassidy rolled her eyes, but Caroline set down her spoon and raised her tumbler to her lips. As she took a sip, her eyelids fluttered closed in feigned ecstasy.

"Assuredly. Please, Garcon, my sister and I will each enjoy a glass." Andy grinned at the response, filled their glasses, and set the bottle on a round doily near Caroline's elbow.

"I will leave the bottle here, mademoiselle. Please let me know if your glasses are not being kept appropriately charged." She gave a small bow then sat down. The girls giggled.

Wearing a small smile, Miranda set the wine bottle between where she would sit at the head of the table and Andy's position to her left. With a turn, she was gone again.

Moments later, the Editor returned, balancing four salad plates covered in fresh greens, tomatoes, spring onions, sunflower seeds and, from what Andy could see as they were set down, raisins.

"Great balancing act with the plates." _Ugh_. Andy couldn't believe she'd said something so incredibly inane.

"Mmm."

Miranda slid into her seat as her daughters yelped, in synchrony, "Yeay."

"This looks delicious," Andy agreed.

"Where's the carrot shreds?"

"The carrots were getting too soft. We'll get more next weekend from the Farmer's Market."

"Ooo-kay," Caroline grumbled.

For the next few minutes, an odd silence fell upon them as jaws crunched the crisp greenery. The rest of the meal was a fairly quiet affair. Following the salad, there was a delicious eggplant lasagna that disappeared just as rapidly.

As they were finishing the meal, Andy poured the last of the cider into the girls' glasses. As she reclaimed her seat, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Carefully, Andy caught Cassidy's attention then pointed to her own shirtsleeve. The response was a look of puzzlement. Unfortunately, Miranda was not so confused.

"Cassidy, show me your sleeve."

Andy gulped, but didn't dare shift her gaze from the suddenly frightened eyes focused on her own. Cassidy blinked, looked down as she twisted her left shirtsleeve around her wrist so that everyone at the table could see the splotch of sauce staining the white fabric.

"I think I have something for that, Cassidy. Excuse me? I'll be right back." Andy shot out of her chair, whizzed past Miranda, and down the hallway to find where she had tucked her purse. While digging for the stain remover pen she kept on hand (never good to do an interview with meatball sub spots on your blouse), she came upon the four-leaf clover charm. After she tucked that into a pocket, the reporter found the orange-colored stick she had been looking for and returned to the dining room.

"Alright, let's see here," Andy decided that if she talked her way through this, she just might prevent Miranda from making cynical observations she was sure she didn't want to hear. "First, let's turn this so we can get at it. There you go." Andy crouched down at the corner of the table by Cassidy's left arm, her back to the girl's mother.

"Okay, so, I'm just going to slide my fingers underneath the fabric. Oh, can you pull the cap off this for me, Cassidy?" A quick glance upwards ended up melting her heart. Cassidy's freckled face was full of relief.

"Great. So, I'm just going to dab a little here along the edges and then work my way in…" After a few gentle swipes, the stain had paled significantly.

"All done. In a few minutes, as the liquid dries, the stain will be gone. Or…almost gone."

"Thanks," came Cassidy's hushed whisper.

Andy was sure by the intake of breath behind her that verbal expressions of gratitude were not in the Priestly DNA and therefore, she should treasure the words.

"Yep." She held a hand out and Cassidy dropped the cap into it. When Andy stood up, the room swayed for a second and she grabbed Cassidy's chair back until the feeling passed.

"Andrea?" The voice behind her cleared her vision and caused a return of the head-to-toe tingle she'd experienced upon arrival.

"Stood up too fast." As she slid the stain pen into her pocket, her fingers hit the charm. An idea struck.

Circling back around the table to her seat, Andy chanced a quick peek at Miranda before turning back to the twins.

"You know-"

"Hey, mom. Can we go? We need to check something." Caroline interrupted.

"I don't know, _can_ you?"

A stereophonic sigh echoed back.

"_May_ we be excused?" This time, the tone was fraught with frustration.

_Oh, yeah, these were definitely Miranda's daughters._

"Yes." Caroline and Cassidy politely placed their napkins to the side of their plates, stood, and left the room. Moments later, the sound of their feet thudding up the stairs reverberated through the room. Miranda snorted and stood. Andy helped her clear away the dishes.

As she awkwardly assisted in filling the dishwasher, Andy watched Miranda wrap up the leftovers and slide them into a custom, built-in refrigerator. When Miranda had invited her to dinner earlier in the week, she was sure it would be an uncomfortable evening. But, in fact, it hadn't been half bad.

"Hey." Andy glanced up to see Cassidy climbing up on one of the barstools on the other side of the kitchen island.

"Hey, Cassidy. What's up?" Several forks clattered as she dropped them into slots.

"Look, the spot. It's all gone." Cassidy grinned, holding up her sleeve.

Miranda strolled over, and inspected it carefully. "Mmm."

"Tell you what, Cassidy. I'll show you another magic trick if you show me where the dish detergent is."

"I got it, Cass." Caroline had followed her twin down, wanting to see what kind of reception the disappearing spot would get. And to see if dessert was in the cards. Whenever there was company, it was much easier to connive their mother into ending the meal with sweets. The smell of baked goods when she entered the kitchen reinforced this idea.

Caroline helped Andy find the container of dish washing pellets and then loaded it into the dispenser and set the controls for the young woman.

"Well, Caroline, since you helped, maybe its your turn for a magic trick. What do you say?" Andy was getting anxious now. The great idea she'd had in the dining room was fizzling away before her eyes.

"Will it hurt?" asked Caroline.

"On a scale of 0 to 10, how lame is it?" asked Cassidy.

Andy chuckled and noticed Miranda was watching, still-faced, but eyes sparkling.

"No pain, but probably a 7 on the lame scale."

Both girls moaned.

"Well, give it a chance. See, nothing up this sleeve. Nothing up this sleeve…." Andy motioned dramatically.

"But, I think I left a green hat here the other day. I think I saw it in the coat closet when I arrived. If you bring it back to me, I think there's something in it you might be interested in." The girls looked at each other. Caroline sighed and left the room, while Cassidy stayed behind to give Andy a slow once over that caused the young woman to have flashbacks to mornings at _Runway_ when Miranda entered the office and gave her a critical apparel review. Only, Andy didn't think Cassidy was assessing clothing so much as the character of the person _wearing_ the apparel.

Caroline re-entered the kitchen with the object in question.

"Great. Please be sure to check it out. Make sure there's no hidden compartments or anything." The girls passed the item back and forth between them, thoroughly examining the thin plastic glitter-hat, mashed in from St. Patrick's Day revelry.

"Okay, then," Andy took the hat, set it atop her head for a moment.

"No, I'm not feeling anything. Maybe it will work on top of your head, Caroline."

"Whatever."

Andy laughed, set the dented hat on Caroline's red head and then gave it three taps.

"Hey," the girl exclaimed.

"What?"

Miranda's eyes met Andy's dancing mocha irises as the goofy brunette stepped away from her daughter.

"Well, I felt something," Caroline gave her head a little shake as she pulled the hat off. A flash of light flickered against an object as it fell towards the floor.

_Clink._

Caroline bent over, "Hey. That's the charm I made for Mom. How did you do that?"

At this, Cassidy sprang to her sister's side to examine the four-leaf clover charm. They both gave Andy an appreciative look of wonder.

"Can't tell. Magic."

"That's not fair," Cassidy pouted.

"If we give you dessert, will you tell us then?" Caroline remembered her reason for coming downstairs to begin with.

"Caroline."

"Ah, c'mon, Mom. We were good at dinner." Cassidy smiled angelically.

"And we just saw that Dad's hockey team lost the Stanley Cup." Caroline enjoined, and the brief look of cheer that flitted over Miranda's face was unmistakable.

"Fine."

Andy cocked her head to the side, "Caroline, out of curiosity, um, the team that lost – your Dad's team – uh, which team would that be?"

"Oh. The Capitals. They lost, though."

"Awesome." Andy broke into a silly little dance. All three of the Priestly females watched in disbelief at the awkward body movements.

"Oh, um. Sorry. I kinda had a bet going with the sports reporters —," Andy realized it was probably not a good idea to be talking about gambling, or more specifically, betting. She straightened up, smoothed her hands over her skirt.

"Cool. See, Mom. We got to see some magic, Andy won her bet, and you – well, you…"

"I got to enjoy the show." Miranda smirked. Andy wondered which show she was talking about – the magic show, or her silly dance number.

"So, we should all have some ice cream. Don't you think?" Cassidy pleaded.

"Actually, Andrea brought rhubarb pie."

Andy and the twins watched on as Miranda sliced up the pie and poured four glasses of milk. They all sat down at the smaller kitchen table to dig in.

Andy's cell phone hummed in her pocket, sending her almost out of her chair. She fished the device out and checked its display. Work.

"Um, I'm sorry. I've got to take this. I'll…" Andy stood and stepped out of the room.

"This is Andy."

"Sachs. I need someone to cover a story down at the docks. Sounds like front-page material. Ready for it?"

"Oh. Yeah. Definitely."

"Good. Get down here, pronto." The line clicked off. Andy laughed as she re-entered the kitchen. Obviously there was some sort of Editor Code-of-Conduct that included a requirement to drop all telephone etiquette as part of the job. She looked up to see Miranda watching her with hooded eyes. She stopped laughing, the tingle she'd had before returning, but in reverse, running from her toes upwards, racing up her spine to finish along her neck and cheeks.

"Uh. I've, uh, got to go. Big story."

"Oh, cuss."

"Can you come back and show us the magic trick sometime?"

"Sure. You betcha. Why don't you hold on to the hat and we'll practice it. Oh." Andy looked over at Miranda.

"No, that's fine." The older woman waved a hand through the air. "The girls were going to spend next weekend at their father's but that fell through, so if you're available next Saturday…"

"Sure." Andy grinned.

"I'm going to figure it out by then," Caroline was examining the hat, her empty pie plate shoved aside.

"Who said you get to hog the hat? You already have a magic hat." Cassidy glowered.

"Oh, is that rainbow hat your magic hat, Caroline?" Andy was proud she had remembered Miranda had said the rainbow knit hat held special meaning for Caroline.

The twins turned in their seats and stared at Andy in disbelief, making her feel more than a little nervous.

"Um, well. It's a nice hat, but not good for this magic trick. You need something that you can rap with your knuckles for effect. But," Andy continued her ramble, "it's a really nice hat, Caroline."

"Have you ever found the end of a rainbow?" Caroline half-whispered. Andy ran a hand through her long hair, tucking it behind a shoulder while contemplating the scene.

Miranda's own head was tilted and she was paying rapt attention, Caroline seemed entranced, and Cassidy looked skeptical even as she leaned over her chair back.

"Well, um, yeah."

"Wow," from Caroline.

"Holy cuss," Cassidy gripped her sister's shoulder.

"Hmmm," Miranda ran a finger along her bottom lip before turning to her daughters. "Cassidy Amelia, watch your language."

"Well, um, yeah. I kind of am sorry to eat and run, but I'll see you, um, next week, right?" Andy felt the sudden need to escape. Besides, if she didn't get in to the office shortly, Greg was likely to hand off the story to someone else.

"Girls, what do we say?"

"Thanks, Andy," came the chorus.

"Thank you, Caroline, Cassidy," Andy replied. Miranda stood and followed her towards the front of the house.

Andy pulled the dry cleaning bag with her green sweater and slacks from St. Patrick's Day from the closet, then gathered up her purse. She caught Miranda gazing, purse lipped, at the sweater in its clear plastic sheath, draped over her arm.

"Don't worry. I won't wear it next Saturday." They shared a brief smile and Andy felt her stomach doing flip-flops. Seeing the person that Miranda Priestly was when in her own home was sending her whole body into disarray. Definitely. That had to be it. No _way_ was she attracted to the woman…right?

"Be sure you don't."

"Well, um, thank you and goodnight." Andy didn't know what she was doing, but she lent in and gave Miranda an air kiss, their cheeks barely brushing against one another and sending shivers through Andy's frame. Embarrassed, she turned and opened the door, stepped out into the cool night air.

* * *

When Andy arrived at the _Mirror_, Chris was there, waiting for her.

"We made out alright. Here's your share – Seventy-five dollars. It was brilliant – the Sharks pulled a hat trick."

"What?"

"A hat trick, Sachs. Jed Ortmeyer made three goals in a row – a natural hat trick."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Hat trick," she grinned, face brightening at her own thoughts regarding the phrase.

* * *

~Fine~


End file.
